Breaking Down The Wall
by Clowns or Midgets
Summary: Sam delved too deep behind the wall and something terrible happened. Dean must find a way to reach his brother before he is lost forever. Limp!Sam Worried!Dean AU Set S6 Episode 13/14
1. Chapter 1

**Thanks go to SnarkyMuch2 for encouraging (forcing) me to start writing for Supernatural and for beta'ing this fic. **

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**~ Chapter One ~**

There was a thudding crash from the other side of the room, and Dean jumped to his feet. "Sammy?"

He dashed around the partition wall and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw his brother convulsing on the floor. Sam's hands were fisted in front of him, and his face was contorted with pain.

"Sam?" Dean's fear ratcheted up another level as Sam failed to respond to him. "Sammy!"

With a heaving indrawn breath, Sam stilled. His eyes slid closed and an expression of blank indifference spread across his features. The blankness scared Dean more than anything.

"Sam, dammit, talk to me!" Dean demanded.

He tapped Sam's face none too gently, and Sam's head rocked to the side, but there was no other response. With a trembling hand, Dean reached out and placed his fingers at Sam's throat, searching for a pulse. He exhaled in a gust of relief as he felt the steady thrum of life against his fingers. He pinched Sam's earlobe, studying his face for a sign of the pain he had inflicted, but there was none. With regret, he ground his knuckles against Sam's sternum, pressing deep, knowing he was hurting his brother, but desperate for a sign of life. There was none. Sam lay quiescent and still on the dusty floor.

Dean's heart clenched in his chest. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. Castiel's warnings echoed in his mind. 'Paralysis. Insanity. Psychic pain so profound that he's locked inside himself for the rest of his life.'

Was that what was happening here. Had Sam damaged the wall so completely that he had become locked inside his own mind?

"Sammy, please talk to me. You're… you're scaring me." Dean hated to admit it, but he was desperate. For all the difference it made, he may as well not have spoken.

Dean placed his hand on his brother's chest and watched the steady rise and fall as Sam breathed.

"Okay, that's enough now," he said firmly. "You've had your fun. Now open those eyes and talk to me. Come on, Sammy, nap time's over. Sam, _please_." His voice broke on the last word, and his next breath was a shaky gasp. Wetness pooled at the edges of his eyes, and he fisted it away without thought. As tempting as it was to let his pain take over, it would not help Sam, and that was what mattered most.

Help! The thought flashed through his mind. Whatever it was that had happened to Sam, it wasn't something he could fix alone.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and a dialed the first number he came to. A moment later, Bobby's gruff voice came over the receiver. "Dean?"

Dean had intended to throw himself into an explanation of the dire situation he found himself in, but the words would not come. At the sound of his surrogate father's voice a choked sob broke from his chest and the tears began to fall again.

"Dean, what's wrong." There was open fear in Bobby's voice. "What's happened?"

"Sam," he choked. "It's Sammy."

"He's okay. Isn't he?"

Dean tried to respond, but it was like a dam had broken inside of him. He couldn't form words.

"Dammit, Dean. Talk to me!" Bobby ordered. "What happened?"

"The wall…" Dean whispered. "I think it broke."

There was a stream of cuss words from the phone as Bobby gave voice to his fear. Dean didn't interrupt him; he allowed Bobby his release. When Bobby spoke again, it was in a voice laden with sadness. "How is he?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "He's unconscious."

"Okay. Let's think about this rationally," Bobby said, reverting to his calm voice of experience. "First things first, where are you?"

"We're still in Rhode Island."

"We need to get you out of there. Have you called Castiel?"

Dean cursed inwardly. He had completely forgotten about the angel. He had been so focused on finding comfort from his surrogate father he hadn't thought to call the one person that had a real chance of helping.

"I'm on it," he said abruptly, ending the call.

Dean pushed Sam's hair out of his eyes and let his hand linger for a moment on his temple. "Don't worry, Sammy. We're going to help you. Just hang on a little longer."

He raised his eyes heavenward and called for his friend. "Cas! I need you."

There was a soft rusting sound and Dean felt another presence in the room. He jumped to his feet and spun on his heel. Castiel was standing behind him, looking down as Sam with an expression of deep concern.

"What happened?" Castiel asked.

"I think…" Dean's voice broke. "I think he did something to the wall."

Castiel crouched beside Sam and gently pulled back an eyelid. Sam's pupil was dilated, and it didn't react to the sudden burgeoning of light. Dean cursed. He knew this was not a good sign.

"This is not good," Castiel said redundantly.

"You think I don't know that?" Dean growled. "Dammit, Cas, look at him. I think 'not good' is a bit of an understatement here."

"You're angry."

"Damn right I am."

Castiel frowned at the floor. "I am sorry for it."

"Never mind sorry. Help him."

With a deep sigh, Castiel laid a hand on Sam's forehead and closed his eyes in concentration. His brow furrowed and his mouth pressed into a thin line. After a full minute of silence, he opened his eyes and rose to his feet, casting Sam a regretful look.

"I cannot help him," he said.

"What do you mean you can't help him? You're an angel for crap's sake. Heal him."

"This is beyond my ability," Castiel said. "Your brother has delved too deep behind the wall. I can't reach him. He is—"

At that moment, Sam drew in a deep, heaving breath and his eyes snapped open.

"Sammy! Oh, thank God." Dean dropped to his knees beside his brother and gripped Sam's arm. "You okay, buddy?"

Sam's breaths stuttered, but he didn't speak.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said in a tone heavy with relief. "Take a deep breath. You're okay. I'm here."

Sam either didn't hear, or was unable to listen as his breaths continued to come in raspy gasps.

"Sammy?" Now there was fear in Dean's voice.

Castiel crouched beside Sam once again and rested a hand on Sam's heaving chest. "Calm," he said gently, and immediately Sam's breaths slowed into a gentle rhythm.

"Sammy?" Dean waited for a response, but there was none. He felt new fear creep into him as he watched his brother. There was still something wrong. It was as if Sam was absent from their trio. His eyes were open, and he was breathing steadily now, but something was missing. His eyes were wide and staring; he didn't seem aware of his surroundings. "Dammit, Sam, talk to me!" he ordered.

"He can't," Castiel said simply.

Dean leapt to his feet and grabbed the lapels of Castiel's coat, shoving him against the wall. "What do you mean can't?"

"If it would comfort you, feel free to strike me," Castiel said calmly. "But it won't help your brother."

As fast as it had come, Dean's anger dissipated. As the prone figure on the floor demonstrated, it was not helping. He dropped to his knees beside Sam and cupped his cheek in his hand. The skin felt cooler that was normal, and he realized it probably wasn't helping Sam to be lying on the floor.

"Help me get him up," Dean said. Castiel moved to Sam's other side and between them they lifted Sam onto the bed. Throughout it all Sam remained floppy and unresisting, still staring blankly into nothing.

When Sam was situated on the bed, Dean turned his attention to Castiel again. "What did you mean he can't?"

"I mean, Sam is not in there. This is just a shell."

Dean stomach dropped to somewhere in the region of his boots. "A shell? Like a vessel? Has he been possessed?" He searched Sam's eyes for a trace of the black that showed a demonic possession but there was none.

"No. I mean your brother's spirit is gone. He is not here with us."

Dean gasped. "His soul?"

Castiel looked at the ground. "I do not know. There is only one way to find out, and as you know it is not without cost."

Dean frowned, he knew for Castiel to touch Sam's soul would cause his brother excruciating pain, but he needed to know for sure. If soulless Sam was back… Well, he didn't think he could go through that again.

"Do it." Dean's voice was a low rasp. Regret for what was to come hung heavily over him.

"I shall, but I think we should move first. Sam's cries may draw undue attention to us here."

Dean hated to think of those cries and what they would mean: that his brother was suffering unbearable agony. Again. It seemed to him that that was all that Sam did suffer these days. As if his sacrifice in diving into the cage wasn't enough, the universe demanded more of him.

"I can take you to Bobby's," Castiel offered, and Dean nodded. Closing his eyes, he gripped Sam's shoulder and prepared for the disorienting sensation of being moved through space in the blink of an eye.

"Holy hell!" A gruff voice exclaimed. Dean opened his eyes and found himself in Bobby's small lounge. Sam was now lying on Bobby's threadbare carpet and Castiel was kneeling beside him. Easing his arms under Sam, Castiel lifted him onto the couch. It was a ludicrous sight to see Castiel lifting Sam as if he was a child; Sam was a good foot taller than the angel. Castiel positioned him so he was lying back with his head resting on a cushion.

"How is he?" Bobby asked, staring over the back of the couch at his adopted son. "He's awake?"

"In a manner of speaking," Castiel said distractedly, unbuttoning his cuff and rolling the sleeve up.

"Hold up!" Bobby said. "What are you doing to him?"

"It's his soul," Dean explained. "We think it may be gone."

Bobby cursed. "Is that even possible?"

Castiel turned his world weary eyes on Bobby. "I have come to believe that anything is possible where Sam and Dean are concerned."

"Well have at it then," Bobby said. "Do what you've got to do. God knows we don't need him running around without a soul again." Memories of Sam standing over him wielding a knife flashed through Bobby's mind, and he stifled a shudder.

Castiel looked regretfully at Sam and laid a hand on his chest. "I am sorry for this," he said, and then he allowed his hand to make the practiced move to plunge into Sam's chest.

Dean looked away, feeling like a coward. He couldn't bear to see his brother go through the unimaginable torment that he knew he must be feeling. He waited for the howls of pain to come, but there was nothing. He spun to look at his brother and saw Sam was still, laying back on the couch with a look of serene indifference to his surroundings, despite the fact Castiel's arm was elbow deep in his chest.

"What the…" Dean trailed off as Bobby clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Easy boy," he said. "He's okay."

"That's my point," Dean said. "How can he be okay with that happening to him."

Bobby looked troubled. "I don't know, but it can't be anything good."

Castiel stepped away from Sam and rolled his sleeve down. "Good is the opposite of what we are dealing with here," he said.

Bobby's heart sank. "It's gone."

Castiel shook his head slowly. "No. Sam's soul is in place."

Dean exhaled in a rush. "Thank God."

Castiel frowned. "You may thank him, but he is not at work here. Sam's soul is in place, but that leaves us with a greater problem."

"What's the problem then?" Bobby asked. "'Cause something isn't right. I watched as you played peek-a-boo with the soul and Sam didn't even twitch."

"That is deeply concerning," Castiel said. "His lack of reaction to painful stimulus is a symptom."

"A symptom of what? Dammit, Cas! What's wrong with my brother? You said something was missing."

"His spirit," Castiel said simply.

"What the hell's a spirit?" Bobby demanded. "I thought it was all about souls."

"It is, but it isn't at the same time."

"Well, that was helpful," Dean said bitterly, looking down at the shell of his brother. He was staring out into space, completely indifferent to the conversation surrounding him.

"A human is made up of three entities: a body, a soul, and a spirit," Castiel said with the patient air of someone dealing with unruly pupils, which to his mind Dean and Bobby were. "As you know, the soul is the conscience and emotion of a person. It is why Sam was such a good hunter when he was soulless; he was able to think on a logical level without emotions clouding his judgment."

Dean scowled. He knew all too well how soulless Sam had thought without his soul. It had led to him almost being doomed to life as a vampire. It may have made him a better hunter, but it made him a crappy brother.

Oblivious to Dean's dark thoughts, Castiel continued. "A spirit is the awareness of a person. Their being. That is why Sam retained all the memories of his life even when he was soulless. It enabled him to play the part of your brother for a while."

Dean well remembered how he had been taken in by the soulless version of his brother. How it had taken time for him to see the subtle differences. "So Sam's spirit is missing?" he said.

Castiel nodded somberly. "Wherever it is, it is not here. This is just the body of your brother. His essence is gone."

"How do we fix this?" Bobby asked. "How do we get him back?"

Though it was Bobby that had spoken, Castiel turned to look into Dean's hopeful eyes as he replied.

"I don't know."

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**Thanks for reading. If you would like a teaser of the next chapter let me know in a review or a PM. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

**Thanks go to SnarkyMuch2 for beta'ing this.**

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**~ Chapter Two ~**

_"How do we fix this?" Bobby asked. "How do we get him back?"_

_Though it was Bobby that had spoken, Castiel turned to look into Dean's hopeful eyes as he replied. _

_"I don't know." _

Dean's legs buckled, and he sank to the floor. His head dropped to rest on Sam's arm. It felt like the air had been sucked from the room. He had expected Castiel to have some grand plan to save his brother; he _needed _him to have the answers.

He felt a hand grip his shoulder, and he knew Bobby was attempting to comfort him. It was useless. The only person that could comfort him now was gone, leaving behind a shell. Anger and sadness fought him for control. It felt like a battle was raging inside of him. And there was Sam… Still and empty Sam. Anger towards his brother surged inside of him. Why had he done this to himself? Dean had warned him not to search for the memories, he had known it was a bad idea, but Sam hadn't listened.

"Dean?" Bobby saw Dean's hands bunch into fists and was concerned by the action.

Dean didn't answer. He pushed himself to his feet and drew back a fist. Bobby caught his arm and pulled Dean back before he could land a punch on his prone brother.

"What the hell are you thinking, ya damn idiot?" Bobby asked.

"He did this!" Dean seethed. "He did this to himself. I told him, I warned him not to push, but he wouldn't listen!"

Bobby quirked a brow. "And you think punching him is going to help?"

"I have to do something, Bobby. I'm…" He didn't know what to say. It didn't matter. Bobby knew exactly what he was feeling as he was feeling it too.

"You're scared," Bobby stated. "Damn right you are. We all are. But this isn't helping Sam. We need to focus on bringing him back."

"Didn't you hear Cas? There isn't anything we can do."

"That may not be true," Castiel said quietly. "Perhaps…"

"Perhaps, what?" Dean demanded, fighting the urge to throw Castiel up against the wall again.

"There is something I can try, but it is not without risk."

"You just shoved your hand into my brother's chest and touched his soul. If that doesn't count as a risk, I don't know what does."

"I am not inept," Castiel said, shooting Dean a wry look. "I am practiced at what I do. This is something new. I have not done this before."

"What exactly is _this_?" Bobby asked. "I'm sorry, Cas, but you aren't making a lick of sense."

"I can reach into Sam's mind and try to find his spirit."

"And if you find it, can you make it, I don't know"—Dean raked a hand across his face—"come back?"

Castiel was silent for a full minute as he considered. "Perhaps."

"And what is the risk?" Bobby asked.

Castiel sighed heavily. "The risk is that I could sever the connection between Sam's spirit and his body."

Dean sank down onto the armchair and buried his face in his hands. Castiel could reach his brother, or he could be the reason that he was lost forever. He felt defeated. This was too much for him to take.

"Are you with us, Dean?" Bobby asked, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder.

Dean nodded slowly. "I think so." He turned to look at Castiel. "Can Sammy come back on his own? I mean, is there a chance that his spirit can return without us risking this?"

Castiel frowned. "I don't know. I have never heard of a spirit leaving its body before. Sam is acting outside of my field of experience here."

"And if we don't do anything?" Bobby asked the question no one wanted to consider. "How long can he stay like this?"

Castiel shrugged. "Indefinitely, I imagine. I have little knowledge of human medicine, but I imagine Sam's status now is what a human physician would call catatonic."

Dean groaned. The word catatonic brought new horrors to mind. Stark, white hospital rooms and leather restraints. He couldn't let that happen to his brother.

"What do you think, Dean?" Bobby asked. "Do we try it?"

Dean shook his head and dropped to his knees beside his brother's head. Cupping Sam's face in his hands, he stared into his brother's eyes. "Sammy, can you hear me?"

"I've told you, Dean, he cannot…" Castiel trailed off as Bobby caught his eye and shook his head. Bobby understood that this was something that Dean needed to do, despite the fact it was pointless.

"Sammy, you're scaring us," Dean said. His tone was heartbreaking in its desperation.

Castiel frowned at the floor. The nuance of human emotion was something he didn't truly understand, but even he understood that this was a private moment between the two brothers.

Dean gripped the back of Sam's neck. "Please, Sam. Talk to me!"

Sam continued to stare into space, indifferent to everything around him.

Dean pushed himself to his feet and turned his defeated eyes to Castiel. "Do it. Whatever you have to do, but for crap's sake, be careful."

Castiel nodded. "I will do my best."

"Do better," Dean said.

Castiel frowned at the obvious contradiction and then shook his head. "I will."

He dropped to his knees beside Sam and took one of Sam's limp hands in his own. Drawing a deep breath, he placed a hand on Sam's temple and closed his eyes in concentration.

Dean watched warily, prepared to pull Castiel away at the first sign that things were going wrong. A full minute passed in relative silence; the only noise in the room was the sound of four people breathing softly. Eventually, Castiel opened his eyes again and looked up at Dean.

"Who is Jess?"

* * *

Sam was at peace.

The warm California sun shone through the gauzy curtains, warming them both. There were no classes to go to today, no studying to do; there was nothing to stop them from spending the day together in bed… nothing except that nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

"You okay, babe," Jess asked.

Sam turned to face his girlfriend, and a wry smile spread across his face. "Everything's fine, Jess." He kissed her temple. "I'm just enjoying the moment."

"You sure. You looked pensive. Are you thinking about Dean?"

His brother had come by the night before—through the window—to ask for help tracking down their errant father. Sam had to refuse him. He had an important interview on Monday, and he couldn't miss it. Besides, it wasn't like their father had never disappeared before. He always came back in the end, usually the worse for drink. Sam vowed that he would call to check in after his interview, and if Dean hadn't tracked down their father by then, he would join the search.

"You know, I'm sure if you called him he would come back," Jess said.

Sam chuckled. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

Jess rolled so she was curled against him, and she trailed one finger over his bare chest. "No, but I don't want you to regret not going."

"My dad can take care of himself," Sam said confidently. "He's a tough guy."

"If you're sure," Jess said, nuzzling her face in the crook of Sam's arm.

"I'm certain." Sam pulled the sheet over his head, casting them both into muted darkness.

* * *

"What does Jess have to do with anything?" Dean asked.

"Who is she?" Castiel asked again.

"She's Sam's girlfriend from college," Bobby said. "She died years ago."

Castiel frowned. "I see."

"Mind filling the rest of us in?" Dean asked, sinking to the floor beside the couch and gripping Sam's arm. "What does Jess have to do with anything?"

"She is where Sam is," Castiel said. "I was wrong. His spirit is not gone. It is still there."

"This is good news, right?" Bobby said. "If he's still in there, we can reach him." He looked down at his adopted son and for the first time, he felt hope.

Dean didn't share that hope. He stared into his brother's blank eyes and waited for the other shoe to drop.

"It simplifies things in a way," Castiel said, staring down at Sam with an indefinable expression. "Sam's spirit is intact and still tethered to his body, but he has done more than retreat into his mind. He has created a wall to hold the real world at bay."

"Another wall?" Bobby scoffed. "That boy's mind is like a construction site. How the hell did he make his own wall?"

Castiel looked from Sam to Dean. "I don't truly know. What I do know is that within his mind he has created a place of peace to protect him from the horrors within his memories."

"Jess," Dean said in a soft sigh. "He made his perfect world with Jess." The thoughts that he didn't voice were the ones that hurt him deeply. Sam's perfect world was with Jess and not him. He had known it since their sojourn in heaven that Sam's heaven was away from the family, while Dean's was with Sam. It burned him to think of it, but it had to be faced. Sam was Dean's world, but the same wasn't true for Sam. He had once had someone that he loved more than anyone else, and it wasn't Dean.

"So, what do we do now?" Dean asked. "How do we reach him when he has built himself a wall?"

"And how do we keep Death's wall intact?" Bobby asked. "'Cause we sure as Hell don't want to go screwing around with that one."

Castiel looked from Dean to Bobby with an expression of confusion. He was waiting for one of them to answer. When no answer seemed forthcoming, he spoke, "I do not know. I told you this is beyond my area of expertise. I cannot breach the wall in Sam's mind. I do not have bond necessary for such a thing."

"Well, if it's a bond you're look for, look no further," Bobby said, clapping Dean on the shoulder. "We've got all we need here in Dean. Those two are joined at the hip."

Castiel looked between Sam and Dean. "It is not a physical bond we require here."

"It's an expression, Cas," Dean said tiredly. "Bobby means we're close."

"Oh, I see. Well, you are the best candidate for the job. However, there is still a problem. I have never done something like this before. I would have to facilitate your excursion into your brother's mind."

"More risk?" Dean sighed.

Castiel nodded somberly. "Not just to Sam. You could both become trapped inside his created world."

Dean dismissed that as soon as it was voiced. There was no risk too great for him if it meant getting his brother back. Bobby wasn't so quick to dismiss it, however. He knew how it felt to lose one of his surrogate sons, and he was not prepared to risk the other.

"I don't think we should do this," he said, staring into Dean's eyes. "It's too dangerous."

"The risk is great," Castiel said, happy that someone was grasping the gravity of the situation.

"I don't care," Dean said firmly. "If this is what it takes to get Sammy back, it's what I am going to do."

"And if you get trapped in there with him?" Bobby asked. "What then?"

"At least we will be together," Dean said.

Immediately, Bobby understood. Dean would not mind becoming lost in Sam's mind as he would at least have his brother there as opposed to the shell they had in the real world. Dean's love for his brother knew no bounds, and that worried Bobby. He had known it since the moment Dean had made the deal with the demon to bring his brother back from the dead, and that had led to Dean being sent to Hell. Dean needed to live for himself, not for his brother.

Dean had knelt beside the couch again and was brushing Sam's hair out of his eyes. He let his hand linger on his brother's cheek and stared into his eyes, trying to communicate with him. It was pointless, Sam's eyes held no awareness. They blinked periodically and stared right through Dean.

"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean whispered. "I'm coming to get you."

Bobby braced himself to share his last hope in averting Dean's plan. "What if he doesn't want to come back?"

Dean turned to look at him, his eyes wide with dawning realization. What _if_ Sam didn't want to come back? Dean had said it himself; Sam had created the perfect world. Would he want to leave it behind? The answer was obvious, though none of them wanted to admit it. Of course he wouldn't want to come back. He had Jess in that world; all he had in this life was the constant hunt and memories of Hell.

"And me," Dean muttered. "Here, he has me."

"What was that?" Bobby asked.

Dean shook his head. "Nothing."

"It does pose an interesting moral dilemma," Castiel said conversationally. "We would be drawing him from where he is happy to this life. How are we to know which life he would prefer."

"We can't just leave him like this," Dean said.

"Can't we?" Bobby asked. "We can take care of him well enough. He could be happy."

"We can't!" Dean growled. "This isn't happiness, being trapped inside his own mind like this. And how are we supposed to take care of him when every threat out there comes at him like a guided missile. He can't protect himself like this."

Bobby tried to catch Dean's eye, but he was staring determinedly at his prone brother. Dean didn't want to see the accusation in Bobby's eyes. The old hunter knew Dean better than anyone, excepting Sam, and he knew what Dean was thinking. The best thing for Sam was to be left to live out his perfect life, even if it was only in his mind. The best thing for Dean was to have his brother back, or failing that, to join him in his created mind. It may be the most selfish thing he had ever done, but Dean was determined to save his brother.

Bobby tugged off his baseball cap and threw it on the floor. "Dammit. You're not thinking straight, Dean. You're not thinking of Sam. You're thinking of yourself."

Dean raised his eyes slowly from his brother's face and looked at Castiel.

"We're doing this. Now tell me what we need to do."

* * *

**Thanks for reading. If you would like a teaser of the next chapter let me know in a review or a PM. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

**Thanks go to SnarkyMuch2 for beta'ing this and to Gredelina1 for her support and feedback. **

* * *

**~ Chapter Three ~**

_Bobby tugged off his baseball cap and threw it on the floor. "Dammit. You're not thinking straight, Dean. You're not thinking of Sam, you're thinking of yourself."_

_Dean raised his eyes slowly from his brother's face and looked at Castiel. _

_"We're doing this. Now tell me what we need to do." _

Castiel sighed heavily and looked down at Sam. "I need something of your brother's that represents a connection between the two of you."

Dean cursed. He knew exactly what he would use if he still had it, but it had been lost long ago when he had thrown it into the trash in a fit of pique.

"I think I have something," Bobby said, disappearing up the stairs. A moment later, he came back carrying a cardboard box. "When Sam took the dive into the cage, I cleared up the stuff he had left here." He shrugged. "I couldn't bear to see it spread about the place. I offered to give it back to Sam the first time he came by after he was brought back topside, but as you can imagine, soulless Sam didn't care much for mementoes." He set the box down on the coffee table and rooted through it, searching for something. He pulled out a plain brown envelope and handed it to Dean.

Dean knew even before he opened the envelope what would be inside. He knew the weight of it, as he had worn it around his neck for most of his life. Blinking back tears, he allowed the necklace to slip from the envelope and into his palm.

"Dammit, Sammy," Dean said softly. "I'm sorry."

As expected, Sam gave no sign that he had even heard Dean's words.

"Is this enough?" Dean asked, holding out the amulet to Castiel.

"It will be fine," Castiel said, taking the amulet and weighing it in his hand. "It represents the bond between you both?"

Dean nodded. "As much as anything does."

"Very well. Let us begin." Castiel looped the necklace around Sam's unresisting neck. "Dean, I need to you touch Sam to forge a connection between you both. When you join Sam in his world, you need to find a way to reach him."

"How do I reach him?" Dean asked.

"Your touch should be enough. If you can forge a contact in that world that mimics this, the wall should be brought down and Sam will return to us."

"Wait just one damn minute," Bobby said harshly. "Are we really going to do this? Tear Sam out of a place where he is happy and drag him back to this hell?"

"Yes," Dean said harshly, and then he softened his tone. "I need him back, Bobby. I can't do this without him."

Bobby sighed and raked a hand over his face. "I know you can't, boy. I just hope Sam understands that, too."

Dean sat on the floor beside the couch and cupped Sam's hand between his own. "I'm coming to get you, Sammy. Just hold on a little longer." He looked up at the angel. "I'm ready, Cas."

Castiel leaned forward and touched Dean's forehead. Blinding pain exploded behind Dean's eyes and everything went dark.

* * *

Sam was happy.

He lay in bed with Jess curled up beside him. Her eyes were closed, but she was not sleeping. Just like Sam, she was enjoying the peaceful moment.

Sam's stomach growled, and she opened one eye, smiling widely. "Breakfast?"

Sam looked embarrassed. "I guess so." He looked at the clock on the bedside table. "Or more accurately, brunch."

Jess followed his gaze and laughed. "Ten already. I feel positively decadent lying in bed so late."

"We have nothing to be up for," Sam reasoned.

"You do. You have an important interview on Monday. Shouldn't you be preparing?"

Sam grinned. "I thought I'd wing it."

She slapped his arm playfully. "Liar. Tell me you haven't been rehearsing your speech in front of the mirror."

Sam looked down, embarrassed, and she laughed. "I know you too well, Sam Winchester."

Sam pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. "That's true. But seriously, I think I'm all set for the interview. They are either going to give me the full ride or they aren't. No amount of practice is going to change that."

"They are," Jess said, no trace of doubt in her tone. "I believe in you."

"I'm glad someone does," Sam said a little darkly. Dean's unexpected visit had brought to mind Sam's father and the disappointment he would feel knowing Sam was continuing his 'wasteful' education. In John Winchester's mind, school was something you did to keep the authorities off your back and only until you were eighteen. After that, you were to dedicate your life to the hunt. Sam wasn't like his father and his brother. He wanted more than a life on the road, staying in crappy motels. He wanted a normal life.

"Thinking deep thoughts?" Jess asked, taking his hand and squeezing it.

Sam shook his head to dispel his morose thoughts. "Nothing important," he lied.

Jess frowned, knowing Sam was hiding something from her, but she decided not to push. When he was ready, he would tell her. He always did. That was something she could always rely on in Sam. He was an open book to her most of the time. The only exception being his family. He rarely spoke about them. She knew that there had been some kind of rift between them, and it weighed heavily on Sam.

"So, pancakes?" she said to change the subject.

"Sounds great," Sam said, pushing himself to a sitting position. "Shall we go to Betsy's?"

Betsy's was one of the local diners that Sam and Jess frequented. It was a cozy place, shunned by most of the college population due to its lack of burgers and sound system. Jess and Sam loved it.

"Mmm, Betsy's," Jess said.

She kissed Sam, pulling back when he tried to deepen the kiss. "Easy, stud. Carry on like that and we'll never eat."

"I'm okay with that," Sam said, unabashed.

Jess considered for a moment, tempted by the idea of another hour in bed, but she shook her head. "Later. Now, I want pancakes." She disentangled herself from Sam's arms and climbed from the bed. "We can share the shower, though."

Sam threw back the bedcovers and lunged at Jess. Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her into the small bathroom and set the shower running.

An hour later, Sam and Jess were walking down the street, arms crossed over each other's back, in the direction of the diner. They stopped frequently to speak to friends and fellow students. Sam was happy for the delays. He was in a pensive mood today. He was still battling the nagging at the back of his mind. He put it down to Dean's unexpected visit and plea for help. Also, he had the treasure he was hiding in his jacket pocket. He had taken to carrying it around with him for the last few weeks, waiting for the right time. He had thought that time would be after his interview, once he knew the future he could offer to Jess, but now he was reconsidering. It felt like the right time. He was just waiting for the right moment.

They found an empty table at Betsy's and placed their order with the elderly owner. When they were alone again, Jess teased Sam about having a cougar after him. It was true that Betsy was fond of Sam. She thought he was a proper young man, unlike many of the youngsters in the area. She admired the way he treated Jess as if she was the most precious thing in the world. In Sam's world, she was.

Their food arrived, and they ate in companionable silence. Once Sam had pushed his plate away, and rubbed his stomach appreciatively, he looked out of the window at the passing people. Something caught Sam's eyes on a park bench, but a car passed, breaking his view. For a moment, he was sure he had seen his brother sitting there. He decided it was just because Dean was on his mind that he had seen him. By now, Dean would be on the road again, searching for their father. Shaking his head, he returned his attention to Jess who was asking what he wanted to do with the rest of their day.

"How about the park?" Jess asked.

There were many small parks and green areas dotted about the campus, but Oval Park was their favorite. There was a large fountain at the center surrounded by benches where they liked to sit.

"Sounds perfect," Sam said, thinking of the ring in his pocket and marveling at the way the perfect opportunity had presented itself to him.

* * *

Dean's eyes snapped open, and he found himself on all fours on the pavement. His stomach was churning and the light burned his eyes.

"Hey, buddy, are you alright?"

He looked up and saw a preppy looking kid with a rucksack slung over his shoulder. He was looking down at Dean with concern.

"I'm fine," he said. "Just tripped."

"You sure? You look kinda pale."

"I said I'm fine!" Dean snapped.

The kid raised his hands in front of him and backed away. "Sure, okay." He gave Dean a sidelong glance and then hurried away down the street.

Dean pushed himself to his feet and brushed off his knees. Looking around he tried to discern his surroundings. He recognized the area immediately, as he had been here before. He was opposite Sam's Stanford apartment building. Even as he watched, the front door swung open and out stepped his brother.

For a moment, he was frozen in place as he watched his brother. He was so alive here. A stark difference to the unresponsive shell he had left behind. The dark shadows beneath Sam's eyes, that had been a constant for too many months to count, were gone. Sam looked vital and alive and so happy.

Dean felt a sickening twist in his guts. Was he really going to drag Sam out of this perfect life back to a hellish life steeped with guilt and danger and memories of Hell? The answer was not easy. If Dean could bring him back, he would. If not, he would stay right here with his brother. It would hurt Bobby to lose both his sons, but Dean wasn't thinking of him. He was only thinking of himself and his brother.

Sam stepped through the door and held out a hand to someone behind him. Though Dean had known she was here, he still felt a thrill of some unknown emotion as he saw Jess. He last time he had seen her she was pinned to the ceiling, surrounded by flame. It had only been a fleeting glance, as he had been dragging his distraught brother from the room at the time, doing his life's work — taking care of Sammy. Seeing her here, with Sam, it was brought home to Dean just how much his brother had lost.

Holding each other close, Sam and Jess strolled down the sidewalk. They stopped occasionally to talk with others. As he watched, Sam leaned down to whisper in Jess's ear. She laughed lightly, and Dean wondered what Sam had said.

They made their way to a kitschy looking diner and went inside. Dean would have liked to go inside, too. He was hungry, but more than that, he wanted to be closer to his brother, but it was too much to hope that Sam wouldn't notice him. He settled himself on a bench opposite the diner and watched through the window as Sam and Jess settled into a booth. A matronly looking woman came to take their order, and Dean grinned as he saw her entranced expression as Sam spoke to her. It seemed in Sam's perfect world he still had the ability to charm.

A man came to sit beside Dean on the bench. He made no attempt to speak to Dean. He was absorbed in the newspaper he was reading. Dean cast it an oblique glance, and his eyes fell on the date. November 1st, 2005.

It felt like a lead weight dropped into Dean's stomach. It was the day before Jess died. Had Sam chosen this date intentionally in hopes of averting her death or had it been chosen at random as the last time he had been truly happy with his girlfriend?

Dean raked a hand across his face. His trip into Sam's mind had just become a lot more complicated. Was there a chance that between him and Sam they could avert Jess's death? No, that wasn't possible. He knew that in his heart. He had tried twice to avert his mother's death, but each time he had been thwarted. There were unwritten rules. Whatever happened, happened. There was no reason to believe that just because they were within Sam's mind that the outcome would be any different.

His choice to break into Sam's mind was justified by this realization. He had to bring Sam out before Jess died again. Sam could not go through that crippling loss twice. It would kill him. And Dean could not stay here within his brother's mind. He could not watch Sam suffer through his grief again either; it would kill _him._

Decision made, and to his mind justified, Dean pushed himself to his feet and set off down the street again. He waited in the alcove of a closed store for Sam and Jess to show themselves again. He had to wait nearly thirty minutes for them to arrive. They set off along the sidewalk, arms intertwined once again. Dean followed at a safe distance, ducking into an alley once when Sam looked back over his shoulder.

They came to a small park, and Dean hid himself in some trees and watched as Sam led Jess to a bench. They sat together, Jess leaning her head on Sam's arm. Dean could hear snatches of their conversation from his hiding place. He listened as Jess coached Sam on some interview. A memory tugged at Dean's mind, and he remembered that the weekend he had pulled Sam away from Jess and Stanford. Sam had been preparing for an important interview. It had been something to do with college, but that was all Dean knew. Everything that had come after surpassed the memory and Sam had never mentioned it again.

Dean was deciding when was the best time to make himself known and what to say when Sam stole the breath from his lungs. He whispered something to Jess and then reached into his jacket pocket.

"Oh hell, Sammy," Dean moaned, guessing what was to come and what it would mean for his brother. He teetered on the edge of decision for a moment. Should he interrupt now, before Sam had this memory to take back with him to taunt him, or should he allow Sam one more moment of happiness? The decision was made for him as Sam dropped to one knee and held out the small velvet box.

Dean watched at Jess's hand flew to her chest, and he listened as Sam fumbled over his words with nerves. The answer was a clearly audible 'Yes'.

Sam slid the ring on Jess's finger and then brushed away the tears that had sprung to his eyes. He got to his feet and Jess threw herself into his arms. He had never been happier.

Dean brushed away his own tears for what was to come, and he plastered a winning smile onto his face. "I guess congratulations are in order," he said loudly.

Sam and Jess spun to look at him, wearing identical shocked expressions.

"Dean?" Sam said.

Dean grinned a false grin and strode over to them. "It's me."

Sam's brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought you were looking for Dad."

"I was, but I figured I'd stick around here a few days and see if I could persuade you to come along. Good thing I did. Now I get to be the first to congratulate you guys."

Jess blushed and held out her hand so Dean could see the ring. Dean knew and cared little about jewelry, but he had to admit his little brother had done good.

"Well, congratulations," he said with a wide smile.

"Thanks," Sam said stiffly. He knew something wasn't right here. The nagging feeling that had plagued him all day was working overtime now.

In that moment, Dean hated himself more than he ever had before. He bit back the bile in his throat and held out a hand to Sam. "No, really, buddy. I'm happy for you."

With a sinking sensation in his gut, Sam reached out a hand and shook Dean's. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it." He was confused to see tears spring to Dean's eyes, and a look of tortured regret spread across his features.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy," Dean said. He brought his other hand up and clasped Sam's between his own. "So sorry."

Pain exploded behind Sam's eyes and he screamed out Jess's name and darkness overtook him.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. If you would like a teaser of the next chapter let me know in a review or a PM. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

**Thanks go to SnarkyMuch2 for beta'ing this and to Gredelina1 for her support and feedback. **

**Here it is, the final chapter. Thank you to everyone that has read this far. I appreciate you taking time to follow me into this latest excursion into writing. **

* * *

**~ Chapter Four ~**

_With a sinking sensation in his gut, Sam reached out a hand and shook Dean's. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it." He was confused to see tears spring to Dean's eyes, and a look of tortured regret spread across his features. _

_"I'm so sorry, Sammy," Dean said. He brought his other hand up and clasped Sam's between his own. "So sorry."_

_Pain exploded behind Sam's eyes and he screamed out Jess's name and darkness overtook him. _

Bobby watched the awareness blink out of Dean's eyes, and his heart sank. They were both gone now. Both of his boys.

"It is done," Castiel said regretfully. "Now we must wait."

"Do you think he can do it?" Bobby asked. "Bring him back, I mean."

Castiel sighed heavily. "If anyone can do it, Dean can. I fear he may not choose to, however. He is dedicated to his brother, and if he believes that is the better place for Sam, he may stay."

Bobby took his cap off and run a hand through his hair. "Dammit, Cas. You're not exactly reassuring me here."

"Oh, I did not know that was what I was supposed to do. In that case, I am sure Dean will reach Sam and they will both come out of this intact."

Bobby sighed. "Thanks for trying."

Castiel looked confused, but he didn't question Bobby further. He knew that this was another of those times in which he had failed in human behavior.

"Do you think it will take long?" Bobby asked.

"There is no way of knowing. I believe time moves differently within Sam's mind. He may have been there with his Jess for weeks within his mind, while only a matter of hours passed there."

Bobby sank down onto the armchair and buried his face in his hands. "Don't leave me waiting too long, boys. My old heart can only take so much."

Castiel was the first to notice the tears that streamed down Dean's face. He looked at them curiously. "This is unusual."

Bobby quirked a brow. "Dean may be a man's man, but he is capable of emotion," he said a little harshly.

Castiel looked at him with an expression of utmost confusion. "I do not know what that means, but I am sure I am misunderstood. The unusual thing is that Dean is able to access his body's emotional capabilities while walking in Sam's mind."

"Oh. Hey, look. Sam is crying, too."

It was true. Tears were now streaming down Sam's face.

"This is good," Castiel said with satisfaction.

"How is it good?" Bobby asked. "They're crying."

"Exactly. They are expressing emotion. They are returning."

Bobby felt his heart lift. They were going to be okay.

A few minutes passed in relative silence. Castiel paced the length of the room, showing uncharacteristic nerves. Bobby merely sat, his eyes trained on Sam and Dean, waiting for something to happen.

When it did happen, it happened fast.

"Jess!" Sam's scream was borne of pain so deep it made the men in the room flinch.

Dean's eyes snapped wide open, and his breath came in a heaving gasp. "Sammy!" He turned in time to see his brother jerk upright and stare wildly around the room.

"Jess! Where is she? What did you do to her?" Sam demanded.

"She's…" Dean's voice broke. "She's gone, Sammy."

"No! She can't. I just got her back. Jess! Jess!" He swung himself over the back of the couch and landed heavily on his feet. "What did you do to her?"

Bobby and Castiel watched with concern as Dean approached his wild brother.

"Sammy, she's gone. I'm so sorry, but she's gone."

Sam turned to look at him and tears streamed down his face. "What did you do?"

Dean's heartbroken expression mimicked his brothers. "What I had to do to save you."

Sam crumpled to the floor, his forehead pressed against the carpet. When he spoke, it came out as a whimper.

"Jess."

Dean watched as his brother fell apart on the floor, and he wanted more than anything to help him, but he knew Sam needed to let this out alone. Dean was the one who had torn him out of the world in which he was happy, and his punishment was to watch the fallout.

Sam sobbed brokenly into the rug. His heart was breaking. He didn't know exactly how it had happened, but he knew he had been with Jess and Dean had torn him away. Fury at his brother surged within him, battling his grief for dominance.

Castiel watched Sam and Dean with a sad expression. He wondered if he had made a mistake helping Dean to reach Sam. Perhaps it would have been better for Sam to have been left alone. He felt uncomfortable watching Sam give voice to his pain and Dean watching on with an expression that told all too well that he was sharing his brother's pain. He wanted to leave, but at the same time, he knew it was important for him to stay. He may know little of human emotion, but he knew well enough to know that Dean needed him here.

Bobby wiped the treacherous tears from his eyes and wondered how things had become this bad, how was it that Dean and Sam suffered so much when they did so much good for the world? It was true that they had made mistakes, but they had always had the best of intentions. That had to count for something.

Dean reached out a shaking hand and touched his brother's shoulder. "Sammy, I'm sorry."

"Why?" Sam asked in a moan. "Why did you do this?"

"Because I don't know how to do this without you."

Sam pushed himself to his feet and strode from the room. They could hear him climbing the stairs and then the click and snap of a lock as he went to the bedroom Bobby set aside for the boys.

Dean watched him go with a sinking sensation in his gut. He was afraid that he had brought his brother out of his own mind, only to lose him to his grief.

* * *

Dean didn't know what to do.

A week had passed, and Sam was no better. He would speak in monosyllabic sentences when he was spoken to directly, but he never instigated a conversation on his own. When Dean or Bobby prepared food for him, he would push it around his plate but eat little. He moved through the house like a zombie, unaware of all that surrounded him. It was if he was searching for something. Searching for Jess.

One afternoon, Dean found Sam sitting on the front porch steps, staring into space. Sam made no sign that he noticed Dean as he sank down onto the step beside him.

"Sam, we need to talk," Dean began. He had rehearsed this speech a hundred times in his head, and despite his trepidation, he was going to try to finally reach his brother.

Slowly, Sam turned to face Dean; it was as if his head was weighted. "What about?"

"What happened."

Sam looked away again. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, I do."

Sam didn't particularly care what Dean wanted or needed. He was living in Hell because of what Dean had done. The pain he lived with daily was almost as bad as the pain of losing Jess the first time. Then it had been worse as he was battling his own guilt for allowing it to happen; now he knew there was nothing he could have done.

"I'm sorry," Dean said.

Sam shrugged. "You keep saying that, but I still don't know exactly what you are sorry for. What did you do?"

"I saved you."

Sam snorted. "From what, a normal, happy life?"

Dean raked a hand over his face. He was relieved his brother was speaking, but the words he spoke were painful for Dean to hear. "I saved you from yourself."

For the first time since he had been brought back, Sam felt something other than anger and grief. He felt curiosity.

"What happened to me?" he asked.

"How much do you remember?"

"I remember being in the cabin. My head was hurting, and then..." He didn't want to think of the flash of Hell he had glimpsed before he had woken to his heaven. He also didn't want to see Dean's face if he knew Sam had remembered any part of the cage. "Then I woke up in bed with Jess."

Dean didn't miss the hesitation, and he knew Sam was hiding something. Rather than pressing Sam for the truth as he wanted, he let it slide. Sam had the right to keep his secrets.

"How long were you there?" Dean asked. "Cas thought time would work differently for you."

"A few weeks, give or take." However long it had been, it wouldn't have been long enough for Sam. He wished with all his might that he could slip back into that world.

Dean whistled. "That long."

Sam shook his head somberly. "Not long enough." He took a deep breath and exhaled in a rush. "How long was it for you?"

"Not that long. A few hours maybe."

"A few hours." Sam sighed. "You couldn't do without me for a few hours. Damn, Dean, you've got some serious issues."

Dean smiled, happy to see the teasing facet of his brother's nature returning. "What can I say? I missed you."

Sam shrugged that off. He didn't want to think of how it had felt to Dean. It was hard enough to cope with his own feelings, without worrying about Dean's.

"You were gone, Sam," Dean said in a mournful tone. "You were awake, and your eyes were open, but that was it. Cas called it a shell. Your spirit was gone."

"Spirit?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah, I guess it's like a soul. It's part of what makes you a person."

For a moment, Sam felt panic. Had his soul gone again? But he realized it couldn't be. He couldn't feel this crushing grief without his soul.

"I was scared, Sammy," Dean admitted. "You were gone, and I didn't know what to do."

"Did you know where I was?" Sam asked. "Did you know she was there with me?"

Dean hung his head. He had been afraid of this question. "I knew," he said quietly. "Cas was able to tell us."

A tear tracked down Sam's cheek. "And you came to get me anyway."

"I did. I know you can't understand this, but I needed you. I was going to bring you back if I could, and if I couldn't, I was going to stay there with you."

"Why didn't you stay?" Sam asked mournfully. "We could have both been happy there."

Dean hid his face in his hands. Not wanting to see Sam's face when he dropped his next bombshell. "It was November 1st, 2005, Sammy."

Dean heard Sam's quick indrawn breath. "I didn't realize. I didn't think. Oh, God. Jess."

"I'm sorry," Dean said. "I would have stayed, I swear I would, but I couldn't watch you go through that again."

Sam got to his feet and began to pace. "But she could have lived. I could have saved her. I changed the course. I said no when you came for me."

"You really think so? Because I tried to save mom, I tried twice, but it never worked. It was her destiny to die in that fire, and it was Jess's—"

"Don't you say it!" Sam growled.

"It was her destiny to die that night!" Dean said remorselessly. "Nothing neither you nor I could have done would have changed that."

Dean had expected Sam to be angry. He had hoped he would. He wanted to see some other expression on his face than the grief that had plagued him since his return. What he didn't expect was for his brother to sink to his knees and let out a keening howl. It was as if he was breaking before Dean's eyes.

Unable to watch uselessly, Dean knelt beside his brother and threw an arm around his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm so sorry."

"I know," Sam said in a moan, choking himself to calm again. He brushed off Dean's arm and got to his feet.

Dean remained kneeling on the ground, looking up at his brother.

Something shifted in Sam's expression as he looked at Dean. He didn't smile, but it was the closest Dean had seen him come for a long time.

"Thank you for not leaving me there," Sam said solemnly. "I know it couldn't have been easy for you."

Sam held out a hand to Dean and helped him to his feet, and together they walked back into the house.

It was not forgiveness. Dean didn't think Sam would ever forgive him for what he had done. But it was the next best


End file.
